I wish that without me your heart would break.I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake.I wish that without me you couldn't eat.I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep.All I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen.

He stared blankly at the table.

He half expected to see his insides sitting in front of him. They couldn't be inside him.

His heart couldn't be the thing causing this sharp pain. His whole body was raw.

It hurt to move his fist and yet he kept clenching his hands tighter.

He was digging his nails so far into his flesh that he saw a little bit of blood.

His lips curled into a sickened smile. That didn't matter now.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He almost wanted to cry.

He hadn't done that since his mother died. He was just a little boy then.

Would the tears take away the pain, and maybe, his heart with it?

So he never had to feel this way again. So he never had to love.

He tried to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. He just stared into the darkness and screamed.

No one could hear him anyway.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He looked over and the small feeling of ease that had filled him seconds before disappeared.

The girl was small and pale, with brown curly hair. But it wasn't her.

She was never who he saw when he looked next to him. And she was the only person he wanted to see.

He took to being invisible. He would go to parties, grab the alcohol and a girl and sulk in a corner.

He could never eat much now anyway. He didn't enjoy meals. He just needed to eat to survive.

He always saw her though. She never missed an event and so neither did he.

He thought he must have become invincible to her as well. She never looked his way anymore.

Not even to shoot him a glare.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He stared at her from across the room. She was wearing an elegant red dress, the silk hugging to her curves.

She finally looked his way. No glare, just helplessness.

Anger, he could handle. He was used to anger from her, but this searing glance was worse then being unseen.

He grinded his teeth together and then looked away, hoping that would numb the ache. It did, a little. Scotch helped some too.

But the stinging always remained in the back of his chest. Behind the place his heart used to be.

It seemed to have evaporated over the summer, replaced by bile and bitterness.

The touch of the red head girl didn't make the throbbing go away either. Her lips weren't as soft, and she didn't smell right. She wasn't what he was hopelessly craving.

He threw her off him. "Get out," he barked the order at her.

She looked scared, but he just grimaced.

She couldn't possibly be as terrified as he was; petrified every second of every day.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He was Chuck Bass, which meant he got the girl, for one night of gratification.

Except, he had kicked the girl out. The fleeting pleasure seemed so useless. It wouldn't last.

Forever and eternity, they didn't exist for him.

But it feels like forever, this hollowness inside. He knows it's only been three months, but it feels like it's always been this way. As if he had been born all wrong.

Defective.

He wasn't meant to love, so no one was meant to love him in return.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She hadn't said a word to him. He had to get out of here.

The silence was eating away at his heart. It had reappeared, filling the spot that was desperately missing its beat.

When her lips had touched his, he finally became whole again.

She was staring at the wall now. She would never know when he slipped out. That's what he attempted to do.

But when he stood up, she did notice.

He searched for regret on her face. He didn't see it. She just looked as forlorn as he was. It was all in the eyes.

She turned those doe-eyes on him and pleaded: "Stay with me?"

He nodded his head. She needed him, just never as much as he needed her.

So he climbed back into the bed. She rested her head on his chest and he cradled her in his arms.

He kissed the top of her head. Even her hair tasted good.

She was the nicest thing, the sweetest, best thing in his life.

But when they woke up, she would leave him. Like she left him at cotillion. Like he left her at the helipad.

They were always leaving each other.

But she was eternally imprinted on his soul.

That was his forever; always loving her. Never mind if she felt the same.

That didn't matter now.

He had already fallen, and there was no safe landing in sight.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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